


what it all could be

by quiettewandering



Series: Spirk Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Unintentional Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/pseuds/quiettewandering
Summary: spock deals with the fallout of thinking that Jim has died.





	what it all could be

**Author's Note:**

> based on this anon prompt: Maybe some TOS Spock thinking Jim is dead, but he’s not... so it’s gay

Spock’s shift ends at approximately 1100 hours. Before this time, he is the picture of efficiency: 

He relays orders in a perfectly calm and collected tone. His mind is on nothing but the task at hand. He even manages to comm Doctor McCoy in sickbay only three times in the span of five hours—at least 40% less than he previously predicted.

Even Spock’s walk to his quarters projects calm and unemotional detachment. He tilts his head at various crew-members who glance at him nervously as he walks by. When Mr. Scott stops him in the hallway, asking in a lowered voice how Spock is doing amidst “the whole mess with the captain”, Spock inwardly congratulates himself at how serenely he replies, letting no emotion creep in.

It’s not until his quarters that something changes. Snaps.

His hands begin shaking. There’s a moisture in his eyes. He feels unable to do anything but slide to the ground, staring blankly ahead as his body trembles.

He sees Jim’s eyes, staring back at him, lifeless. He feels the echo of the connection in his mind snapping in two.

He remembers the way that Jim looked in the adjoining cell next to Spock’s: eye swollen and his hand tenderly clutching where a rib was protruding from his side. The Klingons had stripped him of his clothing to make the freezing temperatures in the cell block especially painful. When Spock tried to give Jim his shirt, a Klingon guard roughly took it away from him and threw it across the hall, into the shadows.

Throughout the cycles of torture, Jim remained stubbornly optimistic. “Don’t worry, Spock,” he said, as he leaned against the wall breathing heavily through the pain, “Scotty will find us. He’ll know where to look.”

Spock didn’t share his captain’s positivity.

When the Klingon guards returned for another round of questioning, Spock had felt his controls slipping. Already they had tortured Jim to the brink of permanent damage; what more could they want, besides Jim’s death?

Spock fought his restraints. As they were dragging Jim out of the cell by his arms, Jim managed to give Spock an unconvincing smile and repeat his mantra:

_“Don’t worry, Spock.”_

There’s a hail from his computer, jolting him to the present. Spock jams his finger into the button and barks, “Yes, what is it?”

“Keep your pants on, Spock,” McCoy snaps back. “Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“I don’t have time for stupid inquiries,” Spock replies. He’s ready to cut the connection when McCoy asks:

“Would you like to see him?”

Spock’s breath catches in his throat. He stares at the opposite wall rather than answering.

“Listen, I didn’t like how you went back on duty within minutes of getting back on the ship in the first place. With all that happened down there, how you two looked in that transporter room… Anyway. He’s stable, if you want to see him.”

“I do not see what good it would do to see the captain in an unconscious state.”

“Spock,” McCoy says, almost gently. “Respectfully, get your head out of your ass and come see Jim.”

There’s a moment where Spock is staring at his hands, tensely still. “Very well.” Spock cuts the connection. He illogically spends another moment staring into nothing before leaving his quarters.

The sickbay has turned down its lights for the night, letting its patients sleep. quiet for the night. There are no sounds but the distant humming of vitals monitors that Spock can hear when he arrives. McCoy leads Spock to the room reserved for patients to stay after extensive surgery.

“Now, just to warn you, he doesn’t  _look_  great,” McCoy cautions Spock, “but he is stable and he’s going to make a full recovery. Just remember that.”

“I understand the facts, Doctor.”

“Spock…” McCoy hesitatingly puts a hand on Spock’s shoulder. At Spock’s disapproving frown, he lowers it again. He sighs and rocks on his heels. “Listen, I know it was pretty bad down there. I mean—from what you saw, Jim died in front of you. If you ever want to talk to anyone—”

“That won’t be necessarily,” Spock swiftly interrupts. “I simply require meditation. It is my next order of business, after I see the captain.”

McCoy nods. “All right, Spock. Whatever you say.” He tilts his chin toward the door. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

Spock steadies himself with a quick shake of his shoulders before entering the room. The captain is lying in a biobed, looking small amidst the wires and bandages covering his body. The monitor beeps a steady rhythm, indicating the reliable strength of his heart.

Stepping forward to the edge of Jim’s bedside, Spock clasps his hands behind his back. It prevents him from reaching.

With his eyes closed, Jim looks younger. More fragile. It’s all Spock can do to prevent himself from illogically taking the captain by the shoulders and shaking him, demanding that he open his eyes and have that look of vitality and life in his expression again.

The external injuries on Jim are the same as Spock remembers: a deep cut in his left cheek as well as a large wound in his forehead, butterfly stitches covering across the wound. They’re the same wounds that Spock stared at while in his cell as the captain lay unmoving on the ground in front of him.

They’re the same wounds he chose to fixate on, instead of the captain’s wide and unseeing eyes.

Spock sharply turns his gaze toward the wall. He still cannot forget (or forgive) his own behavior in the transporter room. When they were finally beamed up, Spock was covered in Klingon blood, holding his captain against his chest and snarling like a wild pre-reform Vulcan. McCoy had taken one look at the scene and had barked at everyone to leave the room. Spock can vaguely remember McCoy murmuring to him as he carefully put a hypo into Jim’s arm: “He’s all right, Spock. He’s just in shock. Whatever you think it is, it’s okay. He’ll be alright.”

Shameful, that a Vulcan with his telepathy couldn’t notice that Jim was cut off to him mentally because of the shock due to his injuries; not death.

Spock reaches out to carefully touch the edge of Jim’s blanket. When his mental connection with Jim was severed… it did, indeed, feel like death.

There’s movement from the biobed. Spock withdraws his hand. He watches as Jim’s eyes flutter open and stare blankly, for a moment, before focusing on Spock’s face.

Jim offers a small smile. Spock tilts his head in acknowledgment.

“I can hear you,” Jim says, raspily, his voice disused. He moves his head, slightly. “In here.”

Spock lowers his eyes to stare at his shoes. “The invasion of privacy I have committed… it is beyond…”

“Spock.”

He looks at Jim; at his bright, hazel eyes and very expressive, very  _alive_ face. “Come here,” Jim says, softly.

Not one to ever disobey his captain (not that he ever could), Spock walks to Jim’s side. He can see, more than hear, Jim communicating his thoughts as clear as day:  _touch me._

Spock reaches out and grazes Jim’s cheek with a shaking hand. His fingertips dance across Jim’s psi-points. His thumb smoothes the smile-lines that crinkle the corner of Jim’s eye. Spock can feel flashes of thoughts and feelings through their tentative bond:  _safe. love. no more loneliness, spock, can’t you feel it?_

Jim manages to reach out and catch Spock’s hand with his own. “Feel me, I’m alive,” he says, gently.

Spock nods. Brings their joined hands to his lips. He holds onto Jim, firmly, like a lifeline in a storm.

And when McCoy comes to bring Jim’s breakfast in the morning, only to find Spock and Jim curled around each other like cozy quotation marks, well, he just puts the tray down on the table next to him and shakes his head, muttering something about “fool Vulcans,” and leaves them to their quiet peace.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading. any feedback is really appreciated. i thrive off it almost as much as i do with inordinate amounts of cookies.
> 
> (come visit me [on my tumblr](https://spockfallsinlove.tumblr.com))


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